


He Blinded Me With Science

by orbingarrow



Series: Stark Industries (The Office) Verse [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Office, Asexual Bruce Banner, Asexual Character, Clint Barton is a Menace, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hawkeye and Hawkeye - Freeform, M/M, No super powers, Office Pranks, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Security Admin Department at Stark Industries has a point system in place to pass the time.</p><p>+10 points for tagging management with a "Kick Me" post it note<br/>+10 points for paging a punny fake name over the office intercom without getting caught<br/>+10 points for stealing any office supplies off Clint's desk and returning it in jello<br/>+20 points for making Steve swear</p><p>It's a good thing productivity isn't in the job description.</p><p>COMPLETE <br/>(Edited 3/10/16 to add the official points list as Chapter 4)<br/>(Edited 5/9/16 to add art as Chapter 5!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bigfoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imafriendlydalek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/gifts).



> Since this is a surprise giftfic for Imafriendlydalek and she's my beta, all mistakes are my own! <3

Bruce has an office somewhere in the building. Tony has never seen Bruce's office, because 99% of the time, Bruce is in Tony's lab, and the lab is comfortable and there's a smoothie machine, and when Tony leaves the safety of the lab something always goes wrong.

But this morning, Tony wants to find Bruce, because Bruce left some new design specs on Tony's desk and they are _bananas_. Tony's pretty sure Bruce isn't trying to build a Birdkilling Bomb, but Bruce's handwriting is so bad, that's the best Tony can make out. He needs to poke at this. He needs to find Bruce.

"Jarvis, where's Bruce's office?" Tony asks, as he pushes away from his desk. "And what time is it?"

"Dr. Banner's office is located on the 7th Floor, and it's 6:55 A.M."

"The 7th floor?" Tony asks with a yawn. "Isn't that the Security Admin Department? What's he doing there?"

Tony feels a little guilty he's never asked this question before. He probably should have.

"Dr. Stane assigned him there."

Well, that explained it. Obie'd always hated Bruce and the SAD floor was known as something of a talent wasteland. Half of all the personnel complaints Tony ever glimpsed seemed to originate on that floor.

"Walk me through how to get from here to there," Tony says. "And write up an office transfer for me. See if we can fit him somewhere up here."

"Yes, sir. Now if you'll enter the elevator..."

Tony listens to the brief directions and commits them to memory as he takes the elevator down half a dozen floors. 

Once the elevator doors swish open and he’s surrounded by dark cubicles and the eyes of the few people there at 7 A.M., Tony thinks maybe he should have asked Jarvis to send Bruce up instead.

Tony’s not concerned about the early hour. It’s pretty common knowledge Tony rarely leaves the building. It’s just people might want to talk to him and Pepper’s made him swear on every car in his garage that he will not have any new sexual harassment complaints aimed at him this year. And he very much likes those cars. Also (and he gets defensive here, even if it’s just in his own head) those complaints aren’t usually his fault. Obadiah had been in charge of hiring for a long time, and a lot of those asshole hires were still around, and either corporate spies or lawsuits waiting to happen. Combine that with Tony’s less-than-stellar reputation, and voila! Trouble.

That's a big part of why Tony rarely leaves the safety of his lab or office. Pepper's been weeding Obie’s people out since the board ousted the man in the spring but it’s a slow process. 

Tony glances at the cubicles again. It's hard not to see spies everywhere.

Still, Tony is a professional and he plasters on a smile like he owns the place (because hey, he does, yay!) and follows the directions Jarvis gave him. Two rights, a left, and then Bruce.

Who isn’t in his office.

Tony debates the merits of sitting on Bruce's desk and waiting, but the office has interior windows and employees are glancing in, and fuck it, seriously. He steps out the door and lets his eyes sweep over the large, cubicle-filled room. There are less than a dozen people at their desks. 

Finally he recognizes someone Tony thinks he can trust-- a guy that Obie had tried to fire for playing paintball in the parking lot with some friends after hours. The man is sitting at his desk, nursing a Stark Industries mug of coffee with his eyes closed.

“Clint Barton, right?” Tony asks as he steps up behind him.

“It wasn’t me,” Clint whines. Then seeming to realize he doesn’t recognize the voice, he slits open his eyes and spills coffee on his shirt in the process. “Awww, coffee, nooooo.”

He dabs at the stain with his tie and then looks up at Tony again, finally recognizing the man behind him and practically jumps out of his chair.

“Dr Stark, shit. Sorry! I-- look-- I really need this job, so even if it _was_ me, I won’t do it again. I didn’t realize staples counted as company property, and we waited until everyone was gone before I made projectiles out of them. Bucky helped me clean them all up and no _actual_ zombies were harmed in the making of that Vine. Plus, Steve made disappointed eyes at me and I offered to reimburse the company but it was like 53 cents worth of staples and I need to wait until I get my check--”

Fifty-three cents and this guy needs to wait for a check to pay up? Tony’s going to need to look over how much these people are making. Obie had been stingy with starting salaries. Tony figures people do better work when they aren’t sitting around worrying about their rent.

“I’m not here to fire you,” Tony says, shaking his head. “I was wondering if you know where Bruce is?”

“Bruce?” Clint asks.

“Dr. Banner,” Tony clarifies, pointing toward the office.

“Ohhhh. Bigfoot. Yeah, look,” Clint says, picking his phone up off his desk and taps it a few times to pull up a picture of the back of Bruce walking into his office. 

“This guy giving you trouble, Dr. Stark?” a young (when did mid-twenties become so young?) man drawls as he walks around the corner of the nearest cubicle. "He's got a bad reputation around here."

“Bucky, shut up,” Clint groans. “Unless you brought me coffee from home and then I don’t care, just give me coffee. I’ll love you forever.”

“You already love me forever,” Bucky says, handing over a thermos he pulls from his messenger bag. He turns his eyes to Tony and uses a flirtatious drawl when he speaks. “Whatever Clint did, I’m sure he’s very sorry.”

Tony can’t tell if this kid is hitting on him, or just being a brat, but it’s refreshing. Bruce and Pepper are the only two people in the building who ever treat him like a real person.

Bucky runs a hand through Clint's hair to muss it up, and then leans down to kiss him on top of the head. Right. So being a brat before.

“I’m not here to fire Clint,” Tony explains for the second time. He's careful not to sound impatient since he wants to encourage this whole not-afraid-of-Tony-Stark vibe he’s getting. “I was asking about Dr. Banner--”

“He’s looking for Bigfoot,” Clint interrupts to explain.

“Oh, well you spotted him this morning right?” Bucky asks, pulling out his phone and thumbing to the exact same picture Clint had shown him a minute ago. He flashes it toward Tony. “He was here.”

Tony can feel his eyes crossing in confusion. "Am I going to regret asking why you're taking creeper shots of Dr. Banner?"

“It’s nothing against the guy,” Clint explains. “He’s hardly ever down here so seeing him is like spotting something legendary. There’s this game some of us play. It’s stupid. But like-- you get 10 points for a Bigfoot sighting, 10 points for tagging management with a post it note, 10 points for paging a punny fake name over the office intercom without getting caught, 10 points for deliberately leaving your fly down all day, 10 points for relocating Steve’s lunch. 20 points for making Steve swear. Here... there’s a list.”

Clint puts down his coffee and starts blindly patting around behind his computer before pulling out a sheet of copy paper. There’s a neatly typed list there that’s nearly unreadable because of all the furiously scribbled out words and notes and addendums. Tony is absolutely sure this is not at all the kind of thing Clint should be showing him. HR would be in tears.

“Gimme,” Tony says. Though when Clint extends it, Tony draws back slightly. “Mind putting it on the desk? I don’t like being handed things.”

Clint doesn’t act like that’s a strange request at all and puts the paper next to Tony who picks it up greedily and scans it over more closely. 

“Great. Now you’re gonna get us _both_ fired,” Bucky groans. "Then whose gonna buy name brand coffee?

Tony ignores him and looks at the list more closely. He can’t help but smile, because the whole list is horrifically unprofessional and hilariously awesome. 

Tony taps his finger on the two feats worth the most points, each involving hand-written edits.

100 - Get Steve Laid (No prostitutes. No sex tapes.) (This is disgusting. Worth ZERO points.)  
100 - Unknown Awesome (Photographic proof required.) (No sex tapes.) (SERIOUSLY NO SEX TAPES CLINT.)

“What’s unknown awesome?” Tony asks.

“Like when you do or see something really unexpected,” Clint says. “You’ve got to literally be saying to yourself ‘How did I get here? How is this my life right now?”

“Would a selfie with me count?” Tony asks.

“Hell yes,” Clint agrees. 

“Do you have to split the points?” Tony asks the both of them.

“Clint could use the win,” Bucky says, waving him off. “Take it punk.”

“Then here. Let’s get you 110 points,” Tony says, reaching for a post-it note. He writes KICK ME and then hands it to Clint. “Tag me.”

Clint takes the post-it and raises it, waiting for Tony to give him a slight nod before pressing it to Tony’s chest.

“You are way cooler than you should be,” Clint says.

“Thanks?” Tony asks, as he shifts closer.

Clint throws up a peace sign and Tony laughs and does the same. The picture Clint shows him a second later surprises Tony, because it’s been a long time since he’s seen his own face captured with that kind of smile. Definitely not for a few years.

“Text that to me?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just choose you out of my contacts because I definitely have your private information programmed into my phone. Right next to all the other billionaires I know,” Clint says.

Tony rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. Clint lays the phone down, which is ridiculously considerate. Tony picks it up and types in his number. He hands the phone back to Clint, who proceeds to group text the photo of them to a half dozen numbers. Bucky’s phone vibrates and Tony’s text alert pings. 

“I take it this game is between more people than just the two of you?” Tony asks.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees. “It’s me, Sam, Nat, Bucky and Kate. Steve doesn’t play, but we send him photographic evidence since he’s the photoshop expert. If he calls bullshit it doesn’t count.”

Any reply Tony has is interrupted by a flurry of loud barks from Clint’s phone alerting him texts have come in. Clint’s face lights up.

“Steve called it valid! 110 points!” Clint shouts in triumph, before realizing there are other people around and lowering his voice. “Seriously, dude, I owe you. We should get a drink with us after work someday. Do you do ever do that? Slum it with the commoners?”

“The commoners?” Tony asks. “This isn’t feudal France, Barton. Yeah, I could go out for a drink.”

Pepper’s going to murder him, but he’s a grown up. He can do what he wants. And not tell her.

“Awesome. I’ll text you,” Clint says. “And hey--look. Bigfoot’s back.”

Clint nods toward the elevator where Bruce is exiting. The scientist looks adorably exhausted, with wild hair and a wrinkled lab coat.

“You should call him Bruce,” Tony says. “And go talk to him next time you see him. He’s a good guy. He could use some friends.”

Clint looks slightly ashamed, and Bucky nods solemnly.

“We’ll do that,” Clint says. 

“And we’ll take him off the list,” Bucky adds. He reaches for a pen so he can draw a line through Bruce’s point value. “Now that we know his name it seems like kind of a dick move.”

“Thanks,” Tony says.

He walks away from Clint’s desk to join Bruce. Tony’s smile lasts the morning.


	2. Free Fry Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no beta since this is a giftfic for the world's best proofreader, Imafriendlydalek! Sorry you're stuck seeing all my mistakes!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!!! <3

It takes Tony less than 24 hours to decide he wants in on the game and by the end of business that day, he's racked up his first 20 points. 

(+10)  
It takes Tony the better part of a conference call to rig up a fake employee phone extension and a voice converter, but it’s so worth it to use the inter-office intercom to page the 7th floor for a Mr. Jack Hoff. The thrill is amplified when he gets his first text from Steve (whom he’s still not met) to confirm his first 10 points.

(+10)  
Pepper is Not Impressed with the KICK ME post-it note, but Tony really has no one else to tag. He’d have to be a giant asshole to pick on anyone else, because any other employee would feel like they needed to suffer his shit with a smile. That’s never going to be an issue with Pep. She gives as good as she gets, and when a scientist down in the lab nervously points out to Tony that he’s got a post-it note on his own back that reads DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS, Tony leaves it there all afternoon.

Tony gets a text from Clint around 2PM on Friday, asking if he wants to get drinks after work. Tony immediately agrees, then sort of wishes he hadn’t because he’s been having so much fun he doesn’t want to ruin his inclusion in the game by having these people meet him and not like him. 

There are just so many expectations; it’s exhausting trying to live up to his own reputation. He spends the rest of the afternoon contemplating ways he can bail without looking like a jerk. He writes out the “Sorry-- something came up” text a few dozen different ways, but never sends it. He wants this evening out, he really does. And he’s not sure if he blows Clint off that he’ll get another chance.

With his mind made up, he waits until the very last minute to change out of his Dior suit into a pair of beat up jeans and a faded MIT shirt. He throws on a hoodie and a ballcap and hopes that's enough to throw off any paparazzi that might be wandering the streets of New York. They don't wait outside the building anymore like they used to, since the chances of getting a glimpse of Tony have gone to nil the last few months.

He rides the elevator down to the lobby alone, and loiters awkwardly off to the side, next to a pair of cacti. Very, very smooth. He's not hiding. Nope. He's owning the atrium. Because he owns the damn atrium. It's a very good pep talk.

At least he doesn’t have to wait there long. It’s a huge relief when Clint steps out of the elevator, a crush of people behind him, one of whom is Bruce.

“Tony!” Clint greets as he leads his group away from the stream of Stark Industries workers who are all heading for the front door. Clint’s friends are easy to recognize since they are the only ones dressed down, amidst a flood of darkly dressed, business casual colleagues. 

Clint’s smile is bright and warm, and Tony’s nerves ease up a bit. He can do this.

“You know Bucky and Bruce,” Clint starts, once they’re all within talking distance. “And this is Nat, Sam, Kate and Steve,” Clint introduces. “Guys-- this is Tony freaking Stark.”

Tony chuckles at the enthusiastic introduction and the last of his stress gives way. Clint hadn’t pointed when he’d said the names, so Tony’s still not sure who is who, but they look friendly enough.

“I appreciate you all letting me in on your game,” Tony greets. 

“Their game,” a tall blond-haired man laughs. “I’m just the referee.”

“You don’t approve?” Tony asks.

“Oh, I approve fine,” he says. “But someone has to be the judge and I’m the only one who won’t cheat.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky laughs, shoving the man playfully hard in the side. The guy is so built it doesn’t even budge him. “Steve here’s too good at photoshop,” Bucky continues. “We’d be looking at pictures of him on the moon, wishing we weren’t all down by 5,000 points. His cheatin’ ass is judge by default.”

“Steve,” Tony repeats. “The Steve we’re trying to get laid?”

Which causes Clint and the young, brunette woman to his left to cackle. Steve rolls his eyes.

“I don’t need the help,” Steve says, in a long-suffering way that doesn’t quite hide the smile in his tone.

“It’d be a sign of the apocalypse if you did,” Tony says. “Next thing you’d know there’d be plagues of locust all over.”

Bucky laughs the loudest at that. “Giving Steve shit, and you don’t even know him,” Bucky says with a smile. “I knew I liked you.”

They head toward the exit and spill out onto the street. There’s anonymity in numbers and blue jeans and Tony doesn’t catch any strangers taking notice of him. That’s a nice change.

“So where are we going?” Tony asks.

“Lido’s,” the group (minus Bruce) answers in near unison.

“You’ll love it,” Clint promises Tony, breaking free of Bucky so he can linger for a moment to fall in step with Tony. “It’s kind of a dive, but they keep a table for us on Friday nights and fries are on the house.”

Tony has never known a time when he’d worried about the cost of fries, but he nods. At least Bruce is looking equally clueless. Clint moves to catch back up with Bucky and it leaves Bruce and Tony to bring up the rear.

The six people ahead of them laugh and chat and move as one, like a murmuration of starlings. Their friendship is effortless. Tony feels his nerves return, but at least he’s got Bruce, and they make quiet small talk the few blocks to the restaurant. Once they’re inside, Steve leads the way to a table, and Bruce and Tony are separated as Bruce is nudged into the booth and Clint scrambles in behind him to claim “best seat”.

Bucky follows after Clint, which leaves a spot for Tony in a chair on the end, squeezed between Bucky and Steve.

Tony braces himself for awkwardness, but now that they’re all in one spot facing each other, conversation comes easy.

“Since Barton’s lousy at introductions,” the man two seats away from Tony says, “I’m Sam. Glad you could join us.”

The others introduce themselves as well, so now Tony knows that Kate is the energetic brunette, and Natasha is the redhead who moves with the grace of a dancer. Clint needs no introduction, but introduces himself anyway, with all the enthusiasm of a contestant on The Dating Game.

“I’m Clinton Francis Barton, I’m 31 years old, and I like long walks on the beach, archery practice, and giving the best blow jobs in the city. My perfect man would be--”

“Me,” Bucky interrupts. “And no one’s gonna believe you if you say any different.”

Bucky leans in to tackle-kiss Clint as the beer (that Tony hadn’t seen anyone order) arrives. There’s a tray of fries, too, on a giant communal platter, and they’re smothered in cheese and bacon and ranch dressing. Tony hasn’t seen anything like it since college, and that was always on other people’s tables.

The whole scene is unexpectedly pleasant.

It’s organized chaos as smaller plates are passed around and cold, foaming glasses of beer, are shoved in front of each person at the table. Conversations break out in twos or threes, and it leaves Tony and Steve to get to know each other.

“So how’d you end up in the Security Admin Department?” Tony asks.

It’s small talk. He ought to be better at it, but he isn’t, so he takes a huge drink to keep from blurting out any follow up questions. He’d pay a lot of money to be half as smooth one on one as he is when he’s charming crowds. Intimate conversation is not his strong suit.

“You can call it SAD,” Steve says, sounding fond. “We all do. When I left the army I didn’t really know what to do with myself, so Bucky and Clint let me stay on their couch. They introduced me to Sam, who was looking for a roommate and since all three of them worked together at SI it just made sense for me to try and get a job there, too.”

“What’s your position?” Tony asks.

“You don’t know? I figured you’d look us all up the first chance you got,” Steve says.

Tony shakes his head. “I try not to do that. I get it all the time, you know? People read about me and they think they know me. They make assumptions. I guess I just wanted to... start fresh.”

“The old-fashioned way,” Steve says. By his smile, Tony can tell he approves. +10 points (Tony’s secret points) for not fucking up the first conversation of the night.

“I guess you could put it that way, yeah,” Tony agrees.

“I’m a Digital Forensics Analyst. If SI security needs images checked for accuracy, photoshopping, or forgery, they send them my way and I figure it out. Your lawyers end up sending me stuff, too,” Steve admits. “Not always in an official capacity.”

“You know Matt and Foggy, then?” Tony asks.

“We’ve met a few times. Mostly we email. You’re lucky to have good people protecting you,” Steve says.

Tony glances around the table and then looks back at Steve. “I really am,” he agrees. “So what does everyone else do?”

Clint interrupts by reaching over the table to drop a slab of fries to Tony’s plate, and then Steve’s.

“You’ve got to eat up,” Clint prompts. “The record’s four platters, and tonight, we’re going for five.”

That’s all Clint says before he’s back to chatting with Bucky and Natasha. Tony’s pretty sure they aren’t even speaking English. Steve takes the intrusion as if it’s the sort of thing that happens all the time, and continues on as if there was no interruption.

“Sam, Natasha and Kate are Linguists. Sam in French, Nat in Russian and Kate in Mandarin. They spend a lot of time watching video from your other labs, making sure nothing shady’s going down. They pitch in with translation projects, sometimes. And then Clint and Bucky are Location Threat Specialists. They look at floorplans and pictures of places you’re going to be going, and assess where assassins would most likely hide if they wanted to kill you.”

“Hey, you know that big tree thing in the corner of your office?” Bucky asks, seamlessly inserting himself into the conversation. “That was all me. Now no one can get sight-lines on you from the Oscorp Tower.”

“Huh,” Tony says. “I didn’t know anyone was doing that.”

“Well, we are,” Bucky says. “And since you’re still alive, I’m going to say we’re pretty damn good at it.”

“Obie hired you?” Tony asked. He hates how his voice pitches slightly on the man's name.

“Yeah. And not because he thought we’d be shiny stars,” Clint says. “Neither of us are good at written tests, and no one in HR bothered to hide that we’d had some of the worst entrance exams of the decade.”

“So we decided to prove them wrong,” Bucky says defensively. “We know what we’re doing.”

“Which is why Obadiah kept trying to fire you,” Tony says, filling in the blanks there.

Bucky and Clint nod simultaneously. 

“Well, that and we’re complete shits sometimes,” Clint admits. 

“But mostly he wanted us gone because no one was going to get anything by us,” Bucky says.

“Thank you,” Tony says, with real gratitude. He can't hide that he’s a little shaken up by the conversation. He’s just not sure if he’s more shaken up by Obie trying to sabotage his safety, or by having two strangers protect him for years, without his knowledge.

“Hey, want to get some air?” Steve asks, unprompted.

Tony nods.

Steve stands and puts a hand to the small of Tony’s back to guide him through the bar crowd. Steve uses his size to clear the way so there’s never too much of a press against Tony, and Tony appreciates it more than he can say.

Once outside, they’re on a tiny back patio, hidden from the alley by large, blue-painted, planks of wood. There’s a picnic table and a trash can and not much else.

“Employees come out here on breaks,” Steve explains. “They let us use it though. We’re everybody's favorites.”

“I figured, what with the free fries and the reserved table. How’d that happen?”

“They were having some mafia trouble when we started coming here,” Steve says. “Some punks in tracksuits trying to extort money off of the elderly owners. Natasha and Clint took care of it. Now it’s Free Fry Fridays.”

“You’ve got quite the group of Superfriends,” Tony says. “Not what I expected out of the delinquents on the 7th floor.”

Steve laughs, and it’s a nice sound. “Delinquents. God, I haven’t been called that in ages.”

“You don’t strike me as a troublemaker,” Tony says.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Steve says. “But in my case I grew out of it. Mostly. When I was a kid, I never met a bully I didn’t think needed a punch in the face. I was small so there were a lot of bullies.”

Tony nods. “I’m well acquainted with that one. I went to college when I was 14, and I was...”

“Precocious?” Steve guesses.

Tony laughs. “Try obnoxious. I was always in trouble.”

“Well, at least no one can accuse me of being a bad influence with all my delinquent ways.”

Steve's smile borders on flirtatious and Tony's really not sure what to do about that. Steve's sitting close enough that their arms are touching and it warms Tony all over.

“I’m not going to live that phrase down, am I?” Tony asks.

“Not once I tell Clint,” Steve confirms.

Tony groans, but he’s smiling. He’s smiled more in the last three days than in the whole year previous. 

Steve bumps Tony lightly, and Tony bumps Steve back. He's pretty sure he hasn't flirted like this in oh... twenty years?

“If you two are banging out here, cough twice!” Clint calls as the door to the patio swings open.

“Geez, Clint. Give them a minute to pull up their pants,” Bucky says, pushing past his boyfriend to step out onto the patio. “Thought we’d check on you two. Everything good out here?”

“Because you’re supposed to be inside, eating the damn fries. Five platters, guys," Clint complains. "It’s like you’re not even trying.”

Tony looks at Steve, who flips off his friends. Bucky and Clint make a quick retreat, arms around each other as they let the door slam behind them. 

“Had enough fresh air for now?” Steve asks. He sounds a little disappointed. "They're going to be relentless until we eat the fries."

“I’m good,” Tony agrees. “Let’s go eat until we puke.”

“That’s the spirit,” Steve says. He hops off the table spryly and opens the door for Tony. As soon as they’re inside, he takes the lead again. Tony’s got a clear path all the way back to his seat.

They’re greeted with a whole new round of drunken hellos, and some playful kissy noises from the other end of the table from Clint and Bucky. Natasha and Sam have made themselves comfortable and she’s on his lap. Sam's got his arm wrapped around her waist so she can balance sideways to grab them more fries. They look cozy.

Bruce seems to have found a friend in Kate, who is scribbling out some complicated geometry onto a cocktail napkin. Bruce has a pen of his own and he checks over her work, making a few quick corrections. From the snippets of their conversation that Tony can hear, Kate’s taking some graduate courses in math. It’s no wonder then, that Banner is smiling. Bruce is always happiest when he’s teaching. Even in a bar.

“Ugh, nerd squad, _eat_ ,” Clint whines, banging his fist down onto the table in front of Bruce and Kate.

Kate picks up a ranch-covered fry and flings it at Clint, nailing him squarely in the middle of the bullseye on his shirt. It’s an impressive shot.

“Oh no you didn’t,” Clint says.

“Oh yes, I did,” Kate says.

“I’ll get that,” Bucky offers, manhandling Clint up onto the table so he can lick the ranch smear off Clint's shirt.

The entire table shifts under Clint’s weight and everyone grabs for their drinks simultaneously, which leaves no hands available for stopping the half-full platter of fries from pitching forward. It slides to the ground with a crash.

“Fries, NOOOOOOO!” Clint cries out, with an overly dramatic fist shake toward the ceiling.

Half the bar turns to look at them, and Clint flings himself over the table, leaving Bucky struggling to hold on to Clint’s leg to keep him from crashing face first into the ground. Tony laughs so hard his side aches, and then as soon as he catches his breath, Kate does a dramatic re-enactment of Clint’s antics and they’re all laughing again.

The rest of the night passes far too quickly. Tony and Steve are maybe flirting but it's so far removed from Tony's usual experience he's not 100% sure that's what's happening. It's nice though, whatever it is. 

The bill comes for the drinks, and everyone starts to dig in their pockets to piece together the cash.

“Let me get this,” Tony insists.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky says. “We didn’t invite you out for your money, Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes and grabs for the receipt regardless, but Natasha’s got reflexes like a cat. She snatches it up and yanks it back.

“It’s my treat tonight, boys,” she says. “ You’ll have to wait until next week to have your pissing contest over who pays.”

She hops lightly off of Sam’s lap before anyone can object. Not that Tony would. There’s something in her tone that’s says she's going to get her way.

When Natasha returns, it’s to shrug into her jacket and say goodnight. Sam leaves with her, and Clint and Bucky stumble out after them. 

“Kate and I are going to share a cab since we’re headed in the same direction,” Bruce tells Tony.

Tony looks surprised because he knows Bruce doesn't swing that way. Or any way. Bruce laughs. “Platonic friendship,” Bruce says. “You should look into it sometime.”

"I'll get right on that," Tony says.

Bruce turns to leave, and Steve steps in front of Tony and settles his hand on Tony's hip.

"Or you could not?"


	3. Waiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending.

This is bad. Well, it’s good, because Steve’s hands are large and warm and Tony can instantly imagine a dozen ways to keep those hands busy. It’s just Pepper. She’ll kill him if he sleeps with yet another employee. Things are so tenuous with the board and Tony’s been trying so hard not to cause problems.

He shuffles a step back. The level of self-control it takes causes him physical pain.

“You are so hot,” Tony says. Which is probably a mixed signal, now that he thinks about it. “And so off limits. I’m sorry. Gods, I am so sorry. If you didn’t work at SI we’d be in a taxi already, headed for my place. I just... I can’t. I’m your boss and there are... reasons... I’ve been told there are very good reasons.”

Tony feels sick. He is turning down one of the hottest men he’s spoken to in years. Steve wants him. Now Tony has to ruin everything.

Except Steve’s smile doesn’t fade as if things have been ruined. If anything, he looks impressed.

“Well then,” Steve says, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment. “Platonic friendship it is.”

Steve takes his own step back, out of Tony’s space. A waitress walks toward their table and Steve raises a hand to give her a small, friendly wave away.

“I’ve got this,” Steve says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

The waitress beams at Steve and then walks off toward the other end of the bar. 

Tony watches as Steve turns and picks up their dirty napkins and starts to pour all the leftover beer into the now empty pitchers. Tony realizes with no small amount of surprise that Steve is bussing the table, so the server won’t have to. And since Tony’s not an asshole, he joins him, and scrapes leftover fries onto one of the platters and then stacks the empty plates while Steve stacks the cups. 

“You’re a natural,” Steve says. 

“I’ve spent a lot of time in bars,” Tony says. “I picked up a thing or two.”

It’s impossible not to notice the way Steve watches him after that. Like Tony’s doing something a lot more impressive than cleaning up. (+10 secret Tony points)

As they’re finishing the waitress passes by again. “Thank Natasha for that tip,” she tells Steve. 

“I will,” Steve confirms.

The waitress walks away and Tony expects to part ways as Steve pulls on his coat.

“Can I walk you back to SI?” Steve asks.

“I’m not going to say no,” Tony says. “You’re not in any hurry to get to bed?”

“I live with Sam, remember?” Steve reminds him, looking pained and amused at the same time. “I usually give him and Nat an hour or two to wear themselves out before I go home.”

Tony nods. “Ohhhhh. Right. In that case, do you want to come up to my office? We can just... hang out. As friends.”

Steve nods, and again, there’s that smile. Tony’s whole body burns with just how much he wants to say ‘fuck the rules’ and shove Steve up against one of the tables in here and kiss him senseless. To run his hand up Steve’s side and...

“Tony?” Steve asks. 

Right. Tony might have let that particular daydream go on a few awkward seconds too long.

“Sorry. The beer got to me. I’m good,” Tony lies.

“You sure?” Steve asks.

Tony nods. “Let’s go.”

Steve’s ridiculously easy to talk to and seems content to let Tony ramble on about things he and Bruce have accidentally blown up in the lab and about Dum-E and U, too, and all the terrible things they try to put in his smoothies. Steve listens and laughs and asks a question now and then. 

It’s hard for Tony not to want to walk close. It’s hard not to let his mind replay the moment when Steve’s hands settled on his hips and by the time they get to the office, all these thoughts aren’t the only thing that’s hard. 

Damn biology.

It doesn’t matter. Tony can hide it. His coat covers all evidence of his discomfort and his voice miraculously doesn’t weirdly pitch as they step into the elevator and Tony instructs Jarvis to take them up to his office.

“If it’s all the same, I’d kind of like to see your lab,” Steve says, sounding a bit shy to make the request. “I always wanted to get up close with a robot. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to see yours.”

Steve is going to be the death of him. A hot guy who actually _wants_ to be in Tony’s lab. Wants to meet his bots. Things only gets worse when the elevator comes to a halt. 

Steve walks around the lab like it’s Disneyland. He gets down on his knees to meet U and Dum-E so he can speak to them on their level. And when he does speak, he talks to them like they’re special. He says it’s nice to meet them and reaches out a careful hand to touch them reverently.

Tony strongly considers quitting his job, right there on the spot. He can retire, make Pepper the CEO, no longer be Steve’s boss, and then all the HR objections in the world won’t stop him from dating this man. That feeling only increases as Steve takes out his phone and takes a damn selfie with Tony’s bots.

“I know I’m not technically in the game,” Steve says. “But this is Unknown Awesome and I’m awarding myself the points.”

Dum-E chirps happily, and by the time Steve lowers his phone, Tony’s composed half of his resignation letter in his head. 

...Except he can’t resign. He’s fought so hard for this company. So hard to have what should have rightfully been his all along.

Steve’s back to speaking to Dum-E and U in a low, kind voice, and Tony digs his fingers into his palm.

Why can’t he ever have nice things?

*

Steve is 100% respectful of Tony’s initial refusal. A week passes and they text constantly, and they spend time together as friends and Steve even helps Tony steal Clint’s stapler so Tony can seal it in some industrial grade jello before putting it back. (+10 points).

Tony gets down to Bruce’s office early so he can watch Clint discover the stapler, and he takes about a dozen photos to text to the others. The best one has Clint flopping face first into the bright red jello, apparently determined to make the prank his breakfast.

When the rest of the gang shows up, Tony leaves his hiding spot and joins them. Bucky and Sam try a little jello for themselves. Steve laughs at their cherry red lips, and he chats with Tony about things that are fun and normal and good. They can definitely do this friendship thing. Steve seems absolutely determined not to make another flirtatious move.

Everything is fine right up until a few mornings later when it occurs to Tony that Steve touches everyone but him. Not in a way Tony thinks is meant to inspire jealousy (although it does.) Just in an ‘I’m Steve Rogers and these are my friends and I’m a tactile person’ sort of way. Tony can’t even blame Steve for how miserable it makes him (watching the security feeds up in his office) because Steve is doing exactly what Tony asked him to do. Distance between them is what’s good for the company. And no matter how much Tony hates it, it was the right move.

When the SAD department personnel all get raises, it doesn’t feel like some sort of creepy pay-off for getting Steve in bed.

When the SAD department is renamed the Reconnaissance Administration Division, and Clint runs around shouting RAD! all afternoon, that isn’t tainted by an interoffice relationship either.

But all of this happiness doesn’t translate to smiles when Tony’s alone. He’s so depressed, he doesn’t even realize Pepper’s walked into his office until she coughs to get his attention. She’s already seen his screen, so there’s no point denying he’s sitting around in the middle of the afternoon, watching a live security feed of Steve at his desk. Like a creeper. 

“Tony,” she says cautiously. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

“Nope,” Tony says. “I’ve been good as gold. Gooder than gold. The _goodest_ of gold, I swear.”

“You like him,” Pepper says.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Tony lies badly. “You’ll have to be more specific. I like a lot of people.”

“No you don’t. Most of the time you tell me you don’t even like me and Rhodey.”

“Lies,” Tony says. “False accusations.”

“Last week you called me the devil.”

“In my defense, you were asking me to sign an awful lot of paperwork,” Tony replies.

He usually enjoys their banter but today his heart’s not in it. Pepper sits on the edge of his desk and smooths some hair out of his eyes.

“I want to talk about Steve Rogers,” she says, pointing to the screen, where Steve’s obliviously at work. “I looked into what it would take to protect the company legally if you were to date an employee.”

“That seems presumptuous,” Tony quips. “Maybe I’m watching Steve because I think he’s stealing office supplies.”

“If he was stealing office supplies, you’d be down there helping him load them into his car, not up here, alone, sulking.”

“How do you know?” Tony asks. “That I like him.”

“You name drop him constantly,” Pepper laughs. “It’s been Steve this and Steve that all week. You didn’t think I’d notice?”

There’s a beat of silence. “I didn’t know I was doing it,” Tony admits. 

Yes, he likes talking about Steve. Likes the way saying his name feels on his tongue. Likes just thinking the word. So okay, shit, yeah. It’s obvious.

“It’s okay to have a crush on someone. You weren’t doing anything wrong, there. So I looked into it for you,” she says. “Turns out, since you aren’t his direct supervisor, it only takes one form.”

Tony looks at Pepper like she’s grown an extra head. “One form?” he asks.

She opens the folder in her hands, takes out a single sheet of paper and slides it toward him.

“I already filled it out for you,” she says. “You just both need to sign it.”

“You and your paperwork,” Tony grumbles, though there’s absolutely no bite in it. He’s fighting a smile as he stares down at the paper. “What if this is all weird and one-sided and he was only interested that night because he was drunk?”

Pepper leans up off the desk and pats Tony’s hand. “There’s only one way to find out.”

*

The opportunity is a miracle. Pepper is a miracle maker. And for that reason, Tony _can’t_ blow it.

He texts Steve. Or actually he composes a text, changes it twenty times, bangs his head against his desk because he’s garbage at this, deletes the texts, writes a new text, and then presses send before he can talk himself out of it. All for:

**Tony:** Meet me at my lab after work? J will let you up.

**Steve:** Sure. See you then. :)

*

Tony gives up on office work around 4. He has no idea what he’s been reading for the last hour, anyway. Patent paperwork, maybe? It can matter later. Right now what matters is all the nervous energy Tony needs to burn before he sees Steve.

He heads down to his lab and changes into something more suitable for laying on the floor. He’s got an FTL Platform that needs rigging from the underside and Tony’s brain finally lets him relax once he’s elbow deep in electronics and plasma coils and grease.

He loses track of time, and he only comes back to reality when a foot gently nudges his. It causes Tony to startle, bang his head on the metal above him, and then flop back to the ground with a groan.

“Fuuuuck,” Tony mumbles. 

“Ah shit, _sorry_!” Steve apologizes, dropping to his knees to help tug Tony out from under the platform. “Are you okay?”

Tony’s a little dazed, and it isn’t helped by feeling Steve’s hands on him. But when he’s finally out from under his latest project, he’s smiling.

“You said shit,” Tony says. “I want my twenty points.”

“Seriously?” Steve laughs.

“I’ve got a head injury,” Tony says, carefully sitting up and then leaning back against the platform. “Humor me.”

Steve pulls out his cell phone and taps out a message. Tony’s phone beeps and when Tony reads the screen, it’s a group text.

**Steve:** +20 to Tony. I said shit.

The response is immediate. A flurry of victory GIFs and thumbs up emoji buzz into both their phones. It’s incredibly ridiculous and immature and Tony loves it. It must show on his face because Steve’s staring at him. 

“What?” Tony asks. “Am I bleeding?”

Steve gives a slight shake of his head. “Remember how I said I spend a lot of time looking at pictures and videos of you? For work. As part of my job,” he clarifies.

“I recall that conversation, yes,” Tony confirms.

“I’ve watched weeks worth of footage of you. Maybe months. And I’ve never seen you smile like you smiled at those texts.” Steve lets the words hang out there for a moment and reaches up like he’s going to touch the spot where Tony hit his head. When his hand gets close, he hesitates. “Sorry. I know you asked me not to--”

“There’s a piece of paper,” Tony interrupts. “Over there. It ummm... just... this conversation might be easier...”

Steve’s confusion is written all over his face.

“Human Resources,” Tony starts again, making no more sense on his second attempt than he had on his first. “They have a form we could sign. I know it seems way too official just for us to be able to flirt, but if you-- I mean, if flirting is something you’d be interested in exploring. There’s a waiver for that.”

Steve’s smile lights up his whole face. “I know there is. I just-- I thought you didn’t want that. Or that it’d be too much trouble.”

“You knew there was a way around the rules?” Tony asks.

“I assumed you knew, this being your company and all,” Steve points out.

“You give me way too much credit,” Tony says. “I thought it would be mountains of paperwork, and even then, Pepper’d say no. I’m one sexual harassment case away from losing the company. I didn’t want to fuck everything up.”

Steve’s expression softens a little. “I think I should probably take a look at the paper before we continue this conversation or all your self-discipline is going to be for naught.”

Steve looks hopeful. And maybe a little lustful. Oh gods, that is a good look on him.

Steve stands up and walks over to the desk where Tony had pointed and grabs the form and an ink pen. He returns and sits back down on the floor next to Tony and holds up the form so they can both look over it together. 

 

_______________________________________________________________  
 **Stark Industries Acknowledgement of Relationship Waiver**

Anthony Edward Stark and Steven Grant Rogers have notified Stark Industries Human Resources Department that they entered into a consensual relationship on or around March 16th, 2015. 

The above referenced employees acknowledge that:

Either party may end their relationship at any time without workplace retaliation.  
Neither party will request, apply for, or in any way accept a direct supervisory relationship with the other.  
Neither party will engage in conduct regarded as favoritism or that other workers may reasonably perceive as favoritism.  
Both parties shall comply with Stark Industries discrimination, harassment and behavioral workplace policies, which they both acknowledge having read and understood.  
Both parties shall notify Stark Industries Human Resources Department if the status of their relationship changes by way of parting, or by marriage.

Party 1 Signature: ________________________________________

Party 2 Signature: ________________________________________

Witness: _______________________________________________ (Stark Industries New York Employees may use the Automated HR AI, or any other Artificial Intelligence available to staff, as a digital witness. Instructions can be found in the Employee Handbook, Page 72.)

Sign and return to Stark Industries Human Resources, Stark Tower, 3rd Floor, New York, NY

________________________________________________________________

 

Steve waits until Tony looks up, and then places the paper on the floor and moves to sign. He pauses and looks up at the ceiling.

“Jarvis, do you count as an automated HR AI or is that something different?” Steve asks.

Tony loves (more than a little) that Steve so easily asks Jarvis this question, instead of directing it to him. Steve understands that Jarvis is _real_ and important, unlike so many of Tony’s dates how consider Jarvis creepy or a bother.

“I am an acceptable witness for any Stark Industries paperwork, this form included,” Jarvis confirms.

Steve smiles and leans down to sign his name. Since Pepper had filled in the rest, it only takes a signature and a date. He looks at Tony and holds out the pen. Tony grabs it and shifts so he can sign.

“We good Jarvis?” Tony asks.

“HR has been notified. As you put it, sir, you are good.”

“Great. Now go away. Give us some privacy, sky snoop,” Tony says, climbing to his feet and helping Steve do the same.

Steve’s mouth is on his before Tony has a chance to make any more words. Steve’s hands are on his sides, tugging at his shirt and Tony’s brain goes blank except for a greedy refrain of moremoremore. They make out like high-schoolers until they have to pull away to catch their breath.

“You-- you know you don’t have to do this, right?” Tony asks. “Not for the raise or for your job or for any of it?”

Steve shakes his head. “You know, for a genius it’s taking you a bit to catch up.”

Tony tilts his head forward so his forehead is resting against Steve’s. “I don’t want to fuck this up. I do that a lot. Too much.”

“I want this,” Steve says. “I’ve wanted it since right around the time you made the announcement that Stark Industries was moving away from weapons. That speech was incredible. _You_ are incredible.”

“That was nearly a year ago,” Tony says, drawing back so he can look Steve properly in the eyes. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Steve chokes on a laugh. “Tony. What was I supposed to do? Send you an email? You’re kind of the definition of unreachable.”

Tony pouts out his bottom lip slightly. “I guess you’ve got a point.”

“If it makes you feel better, my crush on you was the reason I got added to the stupid points list in the first place. The guys kept trying to set me up on dates and I kept... pining.”

“Pining?” Tony asks, perking up.

“Bucky’s word. Not mine,” Steve says. He’s trying to sound put out, but there’s a smile in his voice.

Tony leans in for another kiss. When he pulls back he looks at Steve seriously “Let me take you out to dinner,” he says. 

Steve nods. His expression is full of mischief. “You know I’m a sure thing, right?”

“Ugh, Rogers,” Tony whined. “You’re ruining all my best efforts.”

Steve puts both his hands on the small of Tony’s back and drags him close.

“I’m not saying we can’t do dinner,” Steve says. “I’m just saying my preferred order of events starts with dessert.”

Tony laughs. “I can’t believe anyone thought you were having trouble getting laid.”

“Why are you complaining?” Steve asks. “You’re going to get 100 points out of it.”

Tony is scandalized. This is straight up scandalous. He frowns, but he can’t keep a straight _disapproving_ face because Steve is beaming.

“Delinquent,” Tony says.

“Takes one to know one,” Steve agrees.

“Damn straight.”

 

**Epilogue.**

It’s early. Early enough that Tony should still be sleeping, but he’d woken up from a troubled dream and the sight of Steve next to him made him want to stay awake. To observe in the quiet of pre-dawn, this absolutely breathtaking view that for the moment is Tony’s alone.

The blanket and sheet had pooled somewhere around Steve’s waist overnight. Tony’s pretty sure it should be criminal to look this good while sleeping. He can’t resist reaching over to push a stray hair away from Steve’s forehead and the movement is enough to wake him.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers, as Steve looks up at him.

“M’not,” Steve mumbles. 

He reaches for Tony and once he’s got hold of him he pulls him close and then flips on top of him, pinning him with a quickness that takes Tony’s breath away. Steve leans down to kiss Tony behind the ear and then places a few more gentle kisses down to where his neck meets his shoulder.

Tony bites back a soft noise of pleasure and Steve mumbles something quietly to himself.

“What?” Tony asks.

“It’s stupid,” Steve says, stilling, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“Tell me anyway,” Tony insists.

“I give myself points when I get something right with you. Just in my mind. I don’t tell anyone.”

Tony laughs. “Yeah... if we’re doing the confession thing, then so do I. Give myself points I mean.”

“Are you competitive enough for this to be a problem?” Steve asks. He’s smiling, so Tony isn’t worried he’s annoyed.

“We’re rewarding ourselves for making the other happy,” Tony says. “Is there any way that can be a bad thing?”

Steve considers it. “Race you to 100?”

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	4. Squad Goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was requested, so here it is! The Official SAD Points List.

**SQUAD GOALS**

(Official point system. No bitching. ~SR)

  * +5 points for Saran Wrapping an office chair during work hours, without getting caught..\
  * +10 points for a Big Foot sighting,
  * +10 points for getting the Name Game Song stuck in someone’s head. (Only counts for points if you catch them humming it. ~SW)
  * +10 points for tagging management with a "Kick Me" post it note
  * +10 points for paging a punny fake name over the office intercom without getting caught,
  * +10 points for stealing any office supplies off Clint's desk and returning it in jello +10 points for deliberately leaving your fly down all day.
  * +10 points for relocating Steve’s lunch. (Your stomach doesn’t count. ~SR) +10 points for stapling HR forms in the dead center of page and handing them in that way. (FUCK HR. DOWN WITH THE MAN! ~CB)
  * +10 points for Saran Wrapping an office toilet during work hours, without getting caught. +15 points for taking extensive and frantic notes during casual conversation with non-squad member.
  * +15 points for answering your desk phone with “Welcome to good burger, home of the goodburger! Can I take your order?” (x2 if it’s management)
  * +20 points for Clint only, if he will eat the office supply out of jello using only his mouth. (Eyewitness required) +20 points for making Steve swear. (I can’t believe I’m leaving this on here ~SR.)
  * +20 points for come to work Dress Code compliant consisting of clothes entirely of one color. (Black Gray and Brown don’t count losers ~KB)
  * +20 points for spending an entire lunch conversing in only Morse Code taps in the breakroom. (-... --- --- -... .. . ... ~CB)
  * +30 points if the Morse Code is spoken out loud. (BeepBeepBeep. Beeeep Beeeep Beeeep. Beepbeepbeep. ~KB)
  * +30 for Saran Wrapping the fridge during work hours, without getting caught.
  * ~~+30 for adding sugar packets to unguarded drinks.~~ (MARIE BY THE WINDOW IS DIABETIC. LEAVE HER OUT OF IT! ~KB)(Too dangerous. Remove next printing. ~SR)
  * +40 for pouring blue Gatorade into windex bottle and spritzing it in your mouth when non-squad coworkers approach desk.
  * +50 for Saran Wrapping a sleeping coworker. (Not funny assholes. ~CB)
  * +75 for rubbing chocolate on your forehead and leaving it there all day. (+10 more if you wipe your finger through it and taste it.)(+10 more if you tell them it’s cat shit after you lick your finger.)
  * +100 points for getting Steve laid (No prostitutes. No sex tapes. ~BB) (This is disgusting. Worth ZERO points. ~SR)
  * +100 points for Unknown Awesome (Photographic proof required. ~SR) (No sex tapes. ~BB) (SERIOUSLY NO SEX TAPES CLINT. ~NR ~KB ~BB ~SW)



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have ideas of things to add to the points list, leave them in the comments! 
> 
> You might even see them happen in the next fic in this universe!
> 
> <3


	5. Fan Art

Art by [dchanberry](http://dchanberry.tumblr.com/) who is ultra-talented and super friendly and who gave me permission to post this here! She sometimes does commissions and you can find more information on her Tumblr. You can also see lots of great art there! I totally recommend giving her a follow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me on Tumblr @ [OrbingArrow](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com)! I always follow back and I post lots of drabbles there that don't always make it to Ao3! <3


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